


i see fire (hollowing souls)

by iamremy



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, derek can't find stiles and he panics, flashbacks to the Hale fire
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-07
Updated: 2014-03-07
Packaged: 2018-01-14 23:07:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1282129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iamremy/pseuds/iamremy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>Fire.</em>
</p>
<p>Then, a second later, something else registers.</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <strong>Stiles.</strong>
  </em>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	i see fire (hollowing souls)

**Author's Note:**

> Title taken from Ed Sheeran's _I See Fire_ , from _The Desolation of Smaug._
> 
> Feedback is appreciated.

_Fire._

Then, a second later, something else registers.

_**Stiles** _ .

* * *

Derek climbed through Stiles' window to find him tugging some socks on, car keys held between his teeth and his wallet lying nearby. “What are you doing?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. It was a comical sight.

“I have to go do grocery,” Stiles told him, mouth working around the keys. It was a bit distracting, and Derek averted his eyes. “I totally forgot,” Stiles went on, thankfully finishing with his socks, putting the car keys aside and grabbing a pair of shoes, “and now the fridge is empty. I've gotta get something before Dad comes home, so we won't starve to death. You could come with?” he added, looking up at Derek, shoes finally on.

Derek shook his head. “No, I'll just wait here. Watch some TV or something.”

Stiles nodded. “You do that. I think they're showing the highlights of the Mets game from the day before. Or maybe you could watch Animal Planet.” He grinned. “Maybe there will even be like, a hot she-wolf or something.”

Derek rolled his eyes in response. “You're a regular comedian.”

“I do my best,” Stiles said as he exited his room, Derek right behind him. “Oh, and if my dad comes home before I do, try not to get shot, okay?”

Startled, Derek asked, “What do you mean?”

“Well,” hedged Stiles, “you're a former accused murderer – yes, _exonerated_ , I know, don't give me that look – and you have a tendency to creep on people.”

“No I don't.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night, hon,” Stiles replied, and Derek's stomach did a little flip-flop. _Stop it_ , he told himself. _Don't be a bitch_. “I'll be back in half an hour or so,” Stiles was saying, and Derek forced himself to pay attention. “Do whatever in the meanwhile.”

And then he was gone, leaving Derek alone to entertain himself with unwelcome thoughts of keys and Stiles' affinity for nicknaming people and how his traitorous stomach did strange things around Stiles and how this  _thing_ was really, really inconvenient because, oh my God, Stiles was definitely the most annoying person he'd ever met. He never stopped talking.  _Ever_ . But he was also funny and for a small, skinny kid he could be really strong in all the ways that counted, and–

Derek shook his head furiously at himself and switched the TV on. No use going down that road.

He watched the Mets game for a while, before switching to a cartoon channel and staring absently at Tom and Jerry. He checked the clock more times than he cared to admit. He kept his ears pricked for the Sheriff's arrival. Finally, twenty minutes after Stiles left, Derek found himself bored out of his mind and switching to the local news channel.

“This just in,” a reporter was saying when he changed the channel, “there has been a fire at a store in Beacon Hills.” Derek's attention was grabbed at the word _fire_ , the familiar sick feeling back in his stomach. He watched, apprehensive, as the grim-faced reporter started stating the facts, tone sombre. “There have been four casualties already, one of which is a teenage boy and the other is an old lady. The other two remain uncomfirmed. The bodies are as of yet still unidentified, as firefighters have not yet succeeded in putting the fire out.”

There was bile rising in Derek's throat. His mind felt really sluggish, and it took time for the words to register. Then, with all the force of a speeding train, it hit him.

_Fire_ .

 

* * *

He's running, fast as he can without wolfing out, and he can hear the wind in his ears, the sound of his own elevated heartbeat, but all that's going through his mind is  _Stiles Stiles Stiles Stiles StilesStilesStiles **Stiles**_ like a mantra. He needs to find him, needs to  _ see _ –

His hearing, excellent at the best of times, is super-sensitive right now and he can hear screaming, can hear the sickeningly familiar crackling of flames, can smell the smoke, thick and black and suffocating, can almost see the bright orange-yellow of death and destruction. It takes him back a few years, to guilt and pain and his  _ family _ , stuck inside a burning house and screaming,  _ screaming _ , while he's helpless, their blood on his hands and their cries burned into his mind forever – what has he done, oh God,  _ what have I done Mom Dad everyone please no please don't be happening I swear I didn't mean to I didn't know I never would have if I'd known she said she loved me I'm so sorry please please  **please** _

His heart is in his throat as he runs, eyes stinging and heart racing

_ Mom Dad everyone I'm so sorry I'm so sorry I'm so sorry I tried I never would have I thought I was in love I was stupid please don't pay for my mistakes please don't be dead please I'll do anything I'll give anything please don't be dead _

and all he can think of is Stiles' little grin as he left, the way he jokes around and banters playfully with Derek, he's the only one who's cared about him in a long time

_ I'm sorry I was so stupid I was an idiot I should have known I should have realized and now you're hurting and please don't scream please it's killing me I'm so sorry  **it hurts** make it stop please make it stop Mommy Daddy I'll never do anything wrong I'll always listen to you just please don't be dead I'll do the laundry and take out the trash and I won't break Cora's toys and I'll be nice to Laura please please please don't be dead I'll be a good boy I swear _

and Derek can't lose him, can't lose him because if he does he'll never be whole again.

* * *

The smell is overpowering. The sound is deafening. The brightness is blinding.

There's a crowd around the store, watching as the firefighters try their best to overcome the fire, and in the corner is the reporter Derek saw on TV. He can hear sirens and screaming, can smell smoke and burning flesh and death everywhere, but he can't  _ see _ , he can't see Stiles and he can't see anyone who can help–

Suddenly there's a hand at his shoulder, and the Sheriff's voice in his ear. “Stand back, son, don't get too close to the flames,” and Derek realizes he's been trying to run into the burning store.

“No, you don't get it,” he starts and then begins coughing, the smoke particles irritating the lining of his nose and throat and making his eyes water, “Sheriff, _Stiles_ –”

The Sheriff's eyes widen. “What about Stiles?” he asks, and Derek can hear the fear lacing his voice.

Instead of answering, Derek pulls away and begins pushing his way through the crowd that's gathered, shoving people aside, frantically searching for Stiles' familiar scent, or his voice,  _ anything _ that means he's okay. He can't smell anything except for

_ Mommy Daddy  **NO PLEASE NO I'LL DO ANYTHING I SWEAR JUST PLEASE NO** _

death and smoke, can't hear anything except for crying and the occasional scream. Self-control is a foreign concept right now and he doesn't even stop to consider what he must look like, manic and wild, can't think of anything but how soft and vulnerable and  _ human _ Stiles is, so perishable–

Suddenly he becomes aware of someone yelling in his ear, small soft hands scrabbling at his shirt, and then there's a new smell cutting through the pungent odor – lemon-scented soap and a hint of honey, and it takes him back to hours spent in an ancient Jeep, windows down and radio on, smiling to himself as the boy next to him sings along loudly to classic rock songs–

He blinks, and the roaring in his ears subsides to a faint murmur. His vision clears a little, and his brain finally catches up to the words being roared in his ears.

“Derek Derek what are you doing oh my God Derek _stop_ I'm okay I'm all right I swear I got out the minute the alarm went off it wasn't me–”

Stiles' face is sweaty and darkened with soot. His hair is disheveled, his bottom lip is bloody from where he bit through it, and his eyes are watering from the smoke. He looks worried, oh my God  _ so worried _ , and Derek can hear his heart going a mile a minute.

He looks beautiful.

“You're okay,” he realizes, voice hoarse.

“I'm fine,” confirms Stiles, his hands still in Derek's shirt. “I'm okay, I swear, Derek.”

Unable to stop himself, Derek reaches out a shaky hand and touches Stiles' face. He has to  _ know _ it's real, that Stiles really is all right, this isn't an illusion or a dream and he hasn't just lost someone else he made himself care about.

“Hey.” Stiles' voice is unusually quiet, soft as his skin under Derek's fingers. “Derek, I'm fine. Really. See?” Letting go of Derek's shirt, he takes a step back and spreads his arms a little, proving his point. “I'm okay, you don't need to freak out–”

Wordlessly, almost automatically, Derek reaches out and grabs Stiles, pressing him close until he can practically feel the vibrations of Stiles' heart inside his chest. “You're okay,” he repeats. “You're okay.”

“Yes, big guy,” Stiles tells him, hands smushed between their bodies, spread flat out on Derek's chest. “I'm okay. Are _you_ okay?”

Instead of answering, Derek just holds Stiles tighter, and tries not to think about how human and breakable he really is. He's okay, he's okay he's not dead he's not dying he's not screaming and he's not hurt and that is all that matters because anything else would be unacceptable and if Derek loses him he's going to go insane he's going to  _ die _ from the sheer pain of it – but he's all right, he's alive and safe and Derek has never believed in a higher power before but he does now and he can't stop thanking whoever is up there looking out for Stiles.

“I thought I'd lost you,” he whispers, his voice rough and jagged from all the things he doesn't say.

“You'll have to try harder if you want to get rid of me,” Stiles informs him. “I'm a stubborn bastard.”

Derek laughs hoarsely and buries his face in Stiles' neck.

* * *

He sneaks into Stiles' room again that night and quietly slides into his bed, trying not to wake Stiles. His heart still feels heavy, still feels loaded with pain and guilt and the sound of death. His attempts to be discreet fail, though, and he finds himself halfway through the process of getting under the covers, staring into a pair of sleepy golden-brown eyes.

For a second he thinks Stiles might kick him off and go back to sleep, but then the kid shifts and allows Derek to properly climb in. They don't speak a word, not until Derek has settled on his side, arms thrown protectively around Stiles. He listens to Stiles' strong heartbeat and feels a sudden lump in his throat.

“Hey,” whispers Stiles when Derek presses his face into the pillow. “Hey, Derek, it's okay.”

Derek makes a pained noise and nuzzles his cheek against Stiles' face. The smell of smoke is still too strong, even though Stiles has showered and changed into clean clothes.

“It's okay,” repeats Stiles, taking Derek's hand and placing it over his heart, fingers intertwined. “It's okay, Derek. It's okay.” He says it over and over again until Derek relaxes, inch by inch, and buries his other hand in Stiles' hair.

He falls asleep to the sound of Stiles' deep, even breathing, his heartbeat strong under their tangled fingers. For the first time in forever, the load crushing his soul feels a little lighter.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Works best if you listen to Bastille's _Things We Lost in the Fire_ while reading. It will probably fuck you up, though.
> 
> The tense change after the first page break is intentional - it's a flashback sorta thing. What's currently going on is in the present tense. Thought I'd clear that up.
> 
> Feedback is appreciated. I can be found on [tumblr](http://joeremy-renner.tumblr.com/).


End file.
